Back when I was seventeen years old and first considering the possibility of becoming a writer, the tools available to me were rather low-tech. I had a pad and a pen. Reference materials consisted of a battered paperback dictionary and a thesaurus in even worse condition.

When I had the money for ribbon, I’d cart my mother’s typewriter off to my room. I took that thing over by the time I was eighteen. I’d grown up playing with it so despite it technically belonging to her, I always felt that it was mine. I’m pretty sure that I took it with me when I moved out of the house too.

In 1998 when I became interested once again in writing as a hobby, things were a little different. I didn’t own a typewriter for one thing, but I did have a computer with an internet connection. Other than that, I…